Sins and Virtues
by Mesua Ferrea
Summary: They are nations and as such they cannot act on their own will but in fleeting moments.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: I wrote this for my friend who ships JapanUK. I have a soft spot for the pairing but I never expected my soft spot to end up like this.

I feel slightly guilty that the person this was for edited this. Oh Minerva, forgive me and thank you. As for Chester, thank you for proofreading.

Warnings: Language, potential OOCness, Canadian spelling, twoshot, dark times ahoy, character death, possessive love etc...

Characters: Japan and UK. Brief appearances from France, USA, Germany and North Italy.

Pairings: Japan x UK

Word count: 1545

Disclaimers: I don't own Hetalia or Australia.

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><p><strong>The Cardinal Sins<strong>

_To be everything and more is the simplest, yet most futile, of desires._

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><p><strong>Greed<strong>

They had been empires with tremendous power, and their domination over others could only be described as relentless, cold, and brutal.

Times have changed, fading their thoughts of conquest, and with it their expansionist ideals and power waned. Now the two can only reminisce while gazing upon the spoils of exploits long passed. The true value, the reason why they kept the objects is obscure to all except for them. Others only saw ornate decorations from over the centuries. But they knew their meaning, their secrets.

Arthur prides himself on his jewels and rugs from India, gold and tattered maps retained from his pirate days, tribal masks collected from the vast expanses of Africa.

For Kiku, Chinese artifacts are the centerpieces in his home, beside the weapons from his victories over Russia and the silk tapestries from Korea.

When one visits the other's home, their conversations inevitably, without fail, turns towards the past. Because in the past the world had trembled at their feet. In the past, they had been so close to destroying the other, body and mind. Even now, in this age of globalization and peace, if either of them wanted to, they could still destroy the other at any given time.

It was only fair to give warning.

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><p><strong>Wrath<strong>

A gun was pointed at a stoic Asian man, the barrel roughly shoved into the Asian's temples in the hope he would break down into tears. The man holding the revolver teased his captive as he repeatedly feigned pulling the trigger.

His green eyes glimmered with glee in the hellhole. A feral grin arrogantly decorated his face as his aim was unwavering, waiting, almost begging, for his prey to move. To show weakness. To give into the utter despair that eagerly waited to embrace him.

A stony dark gaze refused to waver even as the ropes cut into his skin, and the man knew any attempts to remove them would be futile.

A clock ticked in the background, relentless, oh so relentless, until the Westminster Quarters sounded.

The Japanese man would never know what hour it was because the bell ended in a blast that resounded in the darkness.

It was 12:00.

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><p><strong>Gluttony<strong>

As Kiku eats his mochi, a queer look flits across his face as an equally curious thought crosses his mind. He imagines one of them wearing a top hat and possessing thick eyebrows, reminiscent of ones that hover over verdant eyes. Verdant eyes that would always taunt him, playful and gleeful and so dangerous it made him shiver in both anticipation and longing, a strange combination. It was fitting though, since the man who provoked the emotions was an oddity himself. A mass of contradictions... His musings are interrupted as his stomach rumbles, demanding more food. He brings another mochi close to his lips. There is a brief moment when he seems about to kiss it. But then his lips pass and the mochi passes through for sharp incisors to tear into it. He slowly chews, savouring its taste, its texture, and then promptly swallows.

For a moment, that morsel had been special but now it is forgotten as the intake of that one treat sates his hunger for only a fraction of a moment.

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><p><strong>Sloth<strong>

When Arthur interacts with the other nations, Kiku remains seated, enjoying his cup of green tea.

When Kiku quietly converses with others, Arthur remains seated, enjoying his earl grey.

Both knowing, believing, hoping beyond desperation that the other will make the first move since they cannot seem to rouse themselves to do it, no matter how strong the longing is.

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><p><strong>Pride<strong>

The two were engaged in a unceasing game of cat and mouse. It was a sick game, since it dealt with feelings they claimed to be void of. Both were proud beings, and as such loathed the thought of risking it for something as trivial as love. Holding in their feelings was far easier to do than to reclaim lost pride. By unspoken agreement, the game would continue until one of them broke and confessed.

When they conversed, Kiku would remain stoic, his gaze cold and his body rigid, unwilling for any of the emotions he ruthlessly crushed to escape. Arthur was no different. He projected an air of cold civility. His words were cordial, but hollow. Nothing more, nothing less.

It was a horrible game, and both wanted for it to end. But they had come so far, the roles were blurred, there was no end in sight since if one broke, there would be nothing left to love.

Such was their nature, and the game they played.

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><p><strong>Envy<strong>

When Kiku witnesses Arthur with a blush slowly creeping on his face as he converses with Alfred, he can't but help turn away with a sharp look of disgust.

If anyone inquires about his peculiar reaction, he simply inclines his head and murmurs excuses. How he is not feeling well, how he was preoccupied by unimportant musings, about how much work he has to attend to and how he wishes to be excused.

He is a master at equivocation at this point.

These answers always satisfy the other party and they turn back to whatever it was they were doing previously.

Arthur is no better.

Whenever Alfred stands beside Kiku, a flustered blush is predominant on the Asians face. Arthur can't stand this.

Not. One. Bit.

So he'll stalk past Alfred and utter cold, clear, cutting words like 'you bloody git' or 'fat ass wanker'. Some days when he's in a particularly vicious mood he'll hiss vicious words about the past, how he wished that he had only taken Matthew in, how Alfred had always been a brat that he never cared about, how he had been a burden upon the Empire. And each and every time, regardless of the hero front Alfred displayed to the world, hurt would radiate from sky blue eyes. Arthur never cared about the pain he inflicted on Alfred though. All that mattered was that the attention that the Japanese man had received would disappear.

If only Alfred would no longer be so oblivious to the fact that he was trying to become a third wheel in _their_ relationship.

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><p><strong>Lust<strong>

Every world conference would be the same sordid affair.

Kiku hated the fact that during what was supposed to be a conference to address pressing issues, Arthur would be harassed by Francis and Alfred, groped and flirted with relentlessly. No matter how much Arthur protested, no matter how sharp his words were and how many times he slapped their offending appendages away, the duo would persist.

_Those impervious, brazen, perverted leeches. Where is their sense of shame? Those desperate fools, why can they not harass each other? _

Kiku did not approve of this. At. All. Each grope caused an unspeakable emotion to flare in his heart and every touch,every sultry look would make him bare his teeth. The bloodlust from his imperial days would be roused, and he would be forced to sit upon his hands, to still the age-old motion of reaching for a katana no longer strapped to his side. How he missed the clear ring of steel being unsheathed! If only he could spill blood, if only...

_Arthur was his._

Whenever these thoughts came to Kiku, his monochrome gaze would clear and an imperceptible red shine would flash in his eyes. If Yao happened to look at Kiku at the time, he would flinch away. Those eyes...

_They shined, danced with sadistic mirth as crimson sprayed everywhere. Pain, pain, pain..._

They would forever represent destruction and carnage...

At the same time, similar thoughts would run through the Briton's mind.

Kiku would always receive seemingly innocent hugs from the airhead Feliciano and friendly- almost too friendly (for Arthur's liking anyway) - pats on his shoulder from Ludwig, that bloody damned stoic.

Each touch would nearly drive Arthur into a frenzy, and the sheer desire to destroy the fools for touching what was _his _would nearly overcome him. He was no longer an empire, but that hardly meant that his possessiveness had waned. No, it never abated. The sun used to always shine upon him, and he could still remember the heady rush of power from those times. But then everything collapsed before his eyes. He could hardly be faulted for being so possessive over what he still had. So that part of his character lingered, lurking beneath the surface, cooing at him in such pleading tones...

There was a reason he would loudly proclaim that he was a gentleman. It was to remind himself that times had changed, and he could no longer act as he wished...

He did take his anger out on the wankers that harassed him though. They were oblivious, and it allowed him to have an outlet to vent.

When the torturous, thrice-damned conference ended and everyone spilled out from the room Arthur and Kiku would stay behind after making excuses to everyone. They would lunge at each other with feral gleams in their eyes and teeth bared. They would grapple, trying to gain dominance. In that stark room they would _nip, bite, tear_ each other proving that the other was _theirs _and that _no one_ could touch them.

_No one._

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><p>AN: I'm just going to cry in the corner for a bit. Part two of this twoshot will be up eventually. If I don't get around it within a month, message me.

Comments, questions and criticisms are welcome. If you wish to flame me, nothing is stopping you there, but at least make it good. Nothing brightens my day more than some good flames.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Here's the other part of the fic. To those who have reviewed, thank you.

It's strange to think that the first story I have completed is a Japan x UK one.

Warnings: Language, potential OOCness, Canadian spelling, fluff, etc...

Characters: Japan and UK.

Pairings: Japan x UK

Word count: 1714

Disclaimers: I don't own Hetalia. The world should rejoice.

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><p><strong>The Heavenly Virtues<strong>

_Because just being beside you is enough._

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><p><strong>Charity<strong>

When the earthquake and tsunami hit Japan, it inflicted great damage. At that moment, Kiku was overwhelmed. Water was quickly flooding cities and towns sweeping anything within its destructive path. Nuclear reactors had a meltdown. His back began to bruise. A dam overflowed and proved useless with the excess water. His chest felt as heavy as lead. Roads and railways destroyed. His legs buckled as if he was under immense pressure.

What should have been a simple diplomatic conversation ended up taking a turn for the worse with the once quiet nation gasping and flailing at the pain. All the damage was tearing him apart from the inside. The pained nation clenched his eyes shut and gritted his teeth in any hopes of suppressing the sharp aches all over his body. However that only made it worse as blood curdling screams, crying and vivid scenes moved across the back of his eyelids showing what his people were experiencing. While he was safe in the foreign embassy located in the United Kingdom, his people were not. He could only force himself to silently suffer, quivering at the pain, while a distinct yet distant voice was trying to pass through the Asian's hearing. Sadly, the voice would not pass through.

While England saw Japan fall to the ground in pain, all what he could do was to get help. He knew the assistance he would get for the man would not help. He knew that his suffering was due to the connection of the land. He knew. He knew. Oh, he knew, but that did not stop him from trying to get superficial help. Trying, but never succeeding, in quenching the pain.

As surrounding people frantically rushed by, all what Arthur could do was hold the now weak but dreadfully shaking hand firm and bring it to his chest. Worried verdant eyes were now caught with the unfamiliar emotion-filled auburn eyes.

Arthur's lips began to tremble as he tried to speak to the man as reassuring as he could.

"Help will be on the way. I promise."

A shaky voice agonizingly tried to reply but the voice came out unclear and the Briton could not understand what words the Japanese was saying. As the man on the ground began to black out, Arthur could catch one thing.

"Thank you."

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><p><strong>Patience<strong>

It was sunny in Tokyo. The weather forecast for that week had even predicted it would be the same gorgeous weather for the next three weeks. This splendid weather elevated Arthur's (usually grumpy) mood greatly. This prompted the man to want to go out and enjoy his time in the city so he dragged Kiku out of the Diet Building once their Prime ministers put a halt to their discussions for the day.

Briefcases in hand, the two had walked from the district they were in and settled for having dinner in one of the restaurants they saw in Ikebukuro. They chose a place that was called Daidaiya, which was apparently well known in the area for its food, mainly sushi and tempura, although Italian influences were present.

Dinner was enjoyable and the atmosphere during dinner was pleasant. Both men were lightly chatting about current affairs and work while slowly eating. Neither of them truly wanted this brief moment of comfort to end. The bill had arrived and both island nations quickly argued about who was to pay as they both could not allow one another to pay for the entire meal. This fight ended quickly and they split the bill. Satisfied with themselves, the two men slowly returned to the entrance of the restaurant but soon found themselves stopping there.

There was a heavy downpour that replaced the clear skies from earlier that day. Grey engulfed blue and the bright sun showed no signs of returning any time soon.

Both men understood that the rain would let up eventually and together they silently waited for the downpour to cease.

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><p><strong>Temperance<strong>

It was that time of the year when the chaotic mess the nations called a world conference was occurring. This particular one was hosted by Feliciano. Expectations were low and the worst had been assumed for some nations. The place was expected to be in utter ruins (the destruction would be far worse than ten nuclear bombs) by the time the thing was over. When it came down to it, the Northern Italian brother wasn't cut out from leadership material. The chaos would have to be settled by Germany or, if the situation got desperate, Switzerland.

Sadly, the worst had happened and madness ensued in the conference room.

Francis was attempting to grope a displeased Vietnam, who was stroking her paddle menacingly.

Roderich was furious over the lack of respect Australia had given him and abhorred the Aussie's failed apology which included lending his koala to the musician.

Alfred was causing some issues and had severely offended many of the Middle Eastern countries to garner attention from Kiku and Arthur. That had ultimately failed.

Both island nations found themselves in control within the conference were in perfect control of their emotions.

Arthur remained seated and calm while nonchalantly drinking his cup of earl grey. This time, the tea had tasted heavenly causing him to shift as he relaxed. He wouldn't allow trivialities to disturb him today.

Kiku was similar and contently sipped his sakura tea. The heat in which the mug had absorbed simply spread through his steady hands. This caused the Asian to contently sigh.

Now was simply not the time to intervene and give some attention-seeking nations what they desired.

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><p><strong>Diligence <strong>

New years had come and gone and the stoic Japanese man was now intent on finishing the work that had piled up over the long vacation. Stacks of paper littered his office and the man knew that a flippant job would only create stress in the long term. It was better to be serious about his work than shirk his duties and pay for it in the long run.

Kiku had refused to take any breaks so that his concentration would not shatter but eventually that failed as he nearly fainted. The Asian man had opted out on eating breakfast so that he could arrive at the office and start his work early. This did not help him as he usually gets anemic when he skips meals.

He had decided that maybe, just maybe, skipping meals was doing more harm than good and went out to eat. It still bothered him that he was not caught up on all his work so he took the time to reply to any New Years letters he received from fellow nations. While eating and writing at the same time, the Japanese was articulating responses that were neither decisive nor indecisive, neither giving too much or too little detail in some means of trying to obtain sweet perfection.

The last letter in the stack was from Arthur. It was formal, as always, and the penmanship was superb, which made the stoic man a tad envious. When he was replying to this letter, it felt strange. The reply was far more detailed and quite decisive on how he felt.

It was strange to think how one letter broke down his character and gave him something he lacked.

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><p><strong>Humility<strong>

Arthur had been running down the halls of the building where the G8 conference was held. The bloody frog had stolen the kerchief that the Queen had given him when she finally mastered how to sew. It held a great deal of meaning to the old nation as it was something he received from his beloved royalty. He knew it took the Queen, when she was younger, a great deal of time to make it, so he couldn't help but always want to carry it with him.

The Frenchman was only a few meters in front of him and as each second passed, the distance between the two became shorter and shorter. Following his movements was easy. Swerving here. Turning into that corner there. Dodging an unsuspecting nation… Wait, what?

The result was instantaneous as Arthur slammed into Kiku causing whatever the man was holding to fly with him. Both nations were winded as they were not suspecting the force of their collision to create a mess.

The Asian nation was the first to snap out of his daze and quickly apologized to the Briton. Arthur, once he was shook out his shock, could only sputter that it was his entire fault and that he would not have any apologies from the island nation. He quickly gathered the papers surrounding them and returned it back to its rightful owner.

Francis was nowhere in sight at this time.

And so the great chase restarted leaving behind a bemused Japan behind.

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><p><strong>Kindness<strong>

Arthur had isolated himself from the world for a long time. It became a great deal of shock when the other island nation, Kiku, had accepted his proposition that they become friends.

The two were similar in that they had isolated themselves from the world. It only made sense that they could become the greatest of friends as they both understood the pain of loneliness.

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><p><strong>Chastity<strong>

It was a tale of courtly love between the English and Japanese man.

Arthur was very still much the embodiment of Victorian culture even though it had been more than a century since her era had ended. Romantic pursuits were taken with caution and could not be rushed. Even though he wished he could quicken the pace and do more than the snippets of moments where they would touch, it would have to do.

Kiku would not have this any other way as they both cuddled up under the kotatsu in Japan's home. He was rather fond of taking things slowly and would be easily flustered if the pace were to have quickened, even by a smidgen.

Both nations would admit that it was comfortable to be with each other while they relaxed under the kotatsu. Snow was gently falling and painting the Asian's garden white. Hours only felt like minutes and the two fell asleep under the warmth. Kiku's head snuggled into Arthur's chest while his hand, which one of the fingers was adorned with a ring, clenched the Briton's sweater.

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><p>AN: Thank you for reading my story (though I can't really call it that. Bunch of drabbles maybe?). Sorry if it wasn't as good as the drabbles prior to this one. I'm going to hide in the corner somewhere and cry.

Comments, criticisms and questions are still welcome. I prefer what to know what my readers think instead of being in the dark, you know.


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